


My Dancer, My Addiction

by SakuraWindChime



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU, Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Blood, Businessman Victor Nikiforov, Dancer Katsuki Yuuri, Fluff, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Medication, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Pole Dancing, Slow Burn, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-09-19 03:02:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9415070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SakuraWindChime/pseuds/SakuraWindChime
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov was a businessman who was lost in the world. He went to drown his sorrows after being dumped… again. Only to find that he had stumbled into a gay bar and there was the most beautiful, raven-haired man he had ever seen curled around a pole. That was the moment where his world started to turn again.





	1. Chapter 1

Viktor Nikiforov who was a dazzling man in every degree, at least that was what he had been told countless times, had just been dumped... again! His partner had not even had the nerve to tell him the devastating news in person, instead they had opted to pass on the information over the phone and promptly blocked his number. Not even when Viktor had turned up at their apartment, rang the doorbell, knocked on the door, cried their name, had they bothered to give him their time. Only when their neighbour had come out of their door adjacent complaining about the noise, and demanded that he leave the poor person alone, did the heartbroken man leave his partner, or ex-partner, behind.

He stumbled through the streets of St. Petersburg, not caring where his feet led him. Only cared that he left his misery behind him like the trees had been discarding their leaves on the cold, autumnal evening. Flashing lights illuminated the darkening sky as Viktor wandered through the entertainment district of the Russian city, the thumping bass filtered out of each entryway the man passed until he finally picked one at random and walked in. Drowning his sorrows in liquor was not the way to appropriately deal with a break up, but what else was he supposed to do? Go to his empty home, save for his beloved dog Makkachin, and pretend that everything was quite contrary? Because it was not, and he was going to deal with that like the adult twenty-seven-year-old he was: at the bottom of a glass in a night club.

The silver-haired man passed security, no longer needing to flash his ID like he used to in his fresh faced youth. Damn, he felt old. The man was sure that he was going to be balding by the time that he found a partner who would accept his love.

Electric music assaulted his ears as he bee-lined straight for the bar, weaving effortlessly through the throng of dancers in the strobed room. Viktor promptly ordered a whiskey from the bartender, downed it and asked for another. The burn of the liquor down his throat most welcomed. Only once his second order was placed in front of him did Viktor relax, turn his body toward the dance floor and leaned heavily against bar as he sat on his rouge stool. There were couples everywhere, grinding against each other, practically flaunting that they were going to get laid that night and Viktor was not. Scanning around, Viktor noticed that there were very few couples who were heterosexual. Realisation dawned on the man that he had walked unwittingly into a gay bar.

 _Great, that's all I need. Another reminder that I am probably the only gay person here without a partner_.

Viktor sighed heavily into his hand as he rubbed a pale hand across his face. He finished the whiskey he had been nursing, slamming the empty glass onto the bar. It was silently replaced by another by the bartender, the woman giving Viktor a look of pity as she placed it in front of him.

"A bad break up?" The woman asked Viktor as he went to retrieve the liquor gratefully.

"You could say that," Viktor mumbled round the rim of his glass sullenly before he took a sip, relishing in the trail it left down his throat.

"You know," the woman spoke, leaning down on the bar in front of her drawing Viktor's attention to her fully. "The dancers we have here are very talented."

Viktor raised a questioning silver brow at the woman he then noticed had almond eyes and a brunette up-do. She would be pretty attractive if he swung that way. _What dancers?_

The bartender simply pointed to an area across the room, before she raised herself from the bar. "They might be able to help you out," she winked and walked down the bar to serve another customer.

Cheers and clapping were somehow heard over the music from the area the woman had pointed toward. Viktor turned his attention to the area, noticing that there was a stage with three ceiling-to-floor poles positioned on it. The crowd that were fanned around the stage area seemed to be applauding the group of female dancers who made their way to the exit, while a group of male dancers entered from the opposite side. Heeding the bartender's advice, and knowing that he may as well enjoy himself while he was in the night club. The pleasant tingle of the liquor had begun to take hold of his body, numbing it slightly. It clouded his mind to a point where he could tuck away the pain of his now single self into a small box in the corner of his thoughts. Viktor slid off the bar stool and walked toward the stage with his drink in tow.

As Viktor neared the stage, the three dancers bowed to the crowd and mounted the polls as the music entered into a new, thumping song. Viktor was toward the front of the eagerly awaiting crowd, staring straight up at the dancers. The male with the raven hair at the pole nearest the edge of the stage began first. With his back to the crowd, he gripped the poll climbing a part of the way up before he twisted his lithe body around to look out at his enraptured audience.

Viktor whistled under his breath at the sight of the man. _He's attractive._

Said man winked and blew out a kiss to the onlookers, his eyes locking with Viktor's for a moment before he spun around the poll and begun his dance.

Viktor's mind short-circuited, as his mouth dropped open in a breathless gasp.

 _Scratch that_. He was the most beautiful man Viktor had ever had the blessing of setting his eyes on.

The way the raven-haired man had control over his body around the poll was absolutely stunning. He was doing positions with his body that Viktor did not even know the human body was capable of achieving. Or, with the heat rising in Viktor's body from the sight, should even be _legally_ able to do. The way the man's muscles rippled under the sinfully tight costume had Viktor's heart racing and he could not remove his azure-eyed gaze from the perfection before him, not even for a second.

Viktor was caught in the enticement of the gorgeous pole dancer, held inside the embrace of his dance. The silver-haired man found that he did not mind being imprisoned within the seduction he knew was not just for him alone. In the back of his mind, Viktor knew that he should not give away his feelings so easily, so freely, to another, so soon after another of his failed relationships. Especially to another who would probably never notice him. He was, after all, just one other in the hundreds of people this fantastic pole dancer saw every day during his job. Viktor was just another customer.

But, the drunken, self-deprecating thoughts did not stop Viktor from staring solely at the beautiful dancer throughout his routine. It did not stop Viktor from being unable to move from his position in front of the stage, even after the male dancers had left. The man’s fogged mind was impassioned and he was not going to let go of that feeling, because it was a damn lot better than feeling so alone that he would rather just not be existing.

 

* * *

 

The Russian man returned night after night to watch the bombshell raven twist his captivating dance languidly around the silver poll. Each night the man on the stage would wink, or send out a blown kiss, and Viktor imagined it was for him. Even though he knew it was just to please the crowd. He committed the gestures to memory, so that he could keep them in his mind’s eye, to get him through his lonely day before heading to the bar again.

It was on the fourth consecutive night of his new obsession, his motivation for the day, that the object of his fascination was nowhere to be found. Viktor had been eagerly awaiting the arrival of the male dancers at the front of the stage, like he had been the past few nights, only to find that the raven-haired man had been replaced by another. The blond male who usually danced with him was on the front pole instead, with a new man at the side to complete the trio.

Viktor visibly sagged at the disappointing revelation, hanging his head. He moved away from the spectacle he did not want to witness if the dancer he had come for was not there. The silver-haired man meandered toward the bar, utterly miserable.

 _What am I going to do now?_ Viktor pondered, as he nursed his whiskey and leaned against the bar heavily.

The man must have had a day off. Or… Or, he had quit and was not going to come back. Viktor’s unseeing eyes widened at the horror of the thought. He groaned into the glass he held to his lips, intending to just finish the drink and leave. There was no point in sticking around the bar if what he came for was not there. Someone seated themselves beside Viktor, but he did not bother to flicker his gaze to look or even acknowledge their presence. The man too absorbed in his self-pity.

“Hello.” A voice carried from his right.

The silver-haired man paused in his drink. The person who had sat next to him seemed to be leaning in toward him.

“Caught your eye?” The same voice came at his ear, so close that he could feel the person’s breath on his neck.

Viktor startled and whipped his head round, coming face to face with the person who spoke. Azure eyes widened in surprise, his mouth dropping open. It was him. It was the man of his desires, right in front of him, and he was _so_ close. Viktor was speechless and in awe. He was pretty sure that he was making some sort of choking noise, but who could have told over the bass of the music?

The raven-haired man in front of him leaned back and chuckled at Viktor’s reaction. The joyous, light sound snapped Viktor back into reality, dragging him from his momentary shock.

Wow, since when did he lose his composure so easily?

Viktor quickly set down his glass, before he dropped it, and watched as the man next to him took a sip from his own glass filled with clear liquid. He took in the sight of the person before him. Instead of the skin tight costumes Viktor was accustomed to seeing the man in, he was wearing a shirt with the top buttons undone, to reveal his toned chest, and a pair of well-fitted jeans. As his gaze rose, Viktor drank in the man’s features which he could finally see up close. The eyelashes of the dancer fanned over the sculpture of his cheekbones, creating long shadows as they were illuminated by the neon blue of the bar lights. He was so breathtakingly beautiful. The lashes fluttered closed and his face contorted momentarily in a grimace as he finished his drink.

 _Must be vodka_ , Viktor thought.

Only the strong vodka of Russia could make a grown man grimace like that from a knock back of the glass. The man set down his glass next to Viktor’s and turned to him once more.

“I see you’ve been watching me dance these past few nights.” The pole dancer spoke with a slight grin and a glint in his eyes.

 _Oh. Oh, so he did notice me_. Viktor exhaled breathily at the revelation.

Happiness and relief bloomed in his chest. Okay, he had to play this cool. He did not need to openly confess to the beautiful man in front of him that he had been the fixation of Viktor’s thoughts ever since he had first seen him.

He decided to play coy. “You are a wonderful dancer,” Viktor replied with a tilt of his head, his silver fringe sweeping over his face with the motion.

The man seemed surprised, as if he did not expect the sudden compliment. He lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck as he flickered his gaze away, to only return it again just as quickly. Viktor swore that he saw a blush on the man’s cheeks, which must have been deep to be visible in the dark and bleached lighting of the club. Wow, Viktor certainly did not expect the seductive pole dancer to be cute!

“Ah,” the raven-haired man started, his gaze slightly off to the side of Viktor. “You compliment me. There are many others who dance far more wonderfully,” he said sheepishly.

There was no way he could honestly believe that. Surely? This man was under the influence of strong liquor, which would make any man speak like he was the best in the world, and yet he was not. He was different. He was humble.

“You are the best dancer I’ve ever seen,” Viktor retorted with conviction. He wanted this man to know just how good he was.

The man just smiled sweetly. “You couldn’t have seen many dancers then,” he laughed, but it did not sound as light as it had earlier.

Viktor felt an overwhelming need to bring back the joyful expression. Anything to make the man happy again. How had he fallen for the dancer so fast?

The pair sat in momentary silence as the man ordered another drink; the thumping music that surrounded them coming into focus. Viktor searched around in his mind for something to say to this stranger, even though he felt like far more than a stranger to Viktor. Then it clicked that he was missing a vital piece of information.

The silver-haired man leaned forward, drawing the other man’s attention away from the bar and back to Viktor.

Viktor raised his most dazzling smile. “So what may I call you, my dancer?” He said in a deep voice, definitely not forgoing flirting this time. He hoped this would work.

The man’s lips quirked. _Bingo_. He leaned so that his face was mere inches away from Viktor’s. He could feel his breath on his skin.

“Yuuri,” he purred. “And what may I call you, my addict?” Yuuri finished with a wink.

God, he was hot. How could he switch from adorably cute to damn right smoking so quickly? Viktor scrambled to keep his brain working enough to form a coherent reply.

“Viktor,” he breathed. “I’m Viktor.”

Yuuri smiled brightly, reaching for his glass and offered it up to Viktor with an inclination of his head. Viktor took the invitation readily, grasping his forgotten drink and raising it to oblige the toast.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Yuuri said as they clinked their glasses together.

“Likewise,” Viktor replied, not able to stop grinning.

The raven-haired man finished his drink and rose up from his seat. Viktor followed his every move, not wanting their moment to end.

“I need to get off now. I’ll see you around.” Yuuri winked and disappeared into the throng of dancers before Viktor could reply.

Viktor stared after the man for a few minutes, mind wrapping around their meeting. Wow. That just happened. That _actually_ happened. He raised a hand to his mouth to hide his stupid, happy grin. He finished his drink and left to go home.

Viktor went to sleep that night excited for what the next day would bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe that I've managed to start a fanfiction that isn't angst based??  
> This is going to be a fic to satisfy all of our fluffy feelings :P And writing it will help me through the train wreck of emotions that is my other YOI fic >.<  
> Let me know what you think?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor bumps into Yuuri, and it doesn't go quite how he expected.

“Venti Americano,” the barista called from behind the dark oak counter.

Viktor flickered his azure gaze up from his phone at the calling of his coffee order. The man gratefully wrapped his hands around the warm take-out coffee cup, thanking the barista as he did so. He moved away from the counter and gave an appreciative sigh into the plastic lid, as he sipped the first taste of the hot, bitter beverage. A large dose of caffeine was definitely needed for the morning business meeting that Viktor had ahead of him. The Russian man was a morning person, given that he naturally woke early every day, but, after four consecutive days of crawling into bed in the waning hours of the night, the sleep deprivation had been catching up with him. Plus, the rush of energy was required to take him through the dreadfully boring meetings he had to lead each day.

He checked his watch and was glad to see that he still had twenty minutes before his workday started. That gave the man enough time to leisurely walk to his office building and mentally psyche himself up for the day ahead, before he could rejuvenate himself again by seeing his favourite pole dancer that evening. Hopefully.

Viktor moved to exit the café that he visited each morning and felt his phone vibrate in his free hand. He opened the text message to read his colleague’s warning that he may be late to work due to being stuck in traffic. Sighing, he opened the text box to type a reply, not paying any attention to his surroundings as he walked through the door of the café.

And walked straight into someone.

Hot liquid sloshed, through the drink hole of the coffee cup, onto Viktor’s hand. The burn of the sudden heat caused him to jolt back his arm, moving the cup away from his body, and a soft swear left his lips in reaction.

“I-I’m _so_ sorry!” A male voice stammered, hovering near Viktor.

Viktor quickly pocketed his phone and switched his coffee to his other hand, so he could shake the now cold droplets of coffee from his left hand in an effort to dry it.

“No need. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Viktor replied, wiping his hand on his jacket.

It was then that the silver haired man decided to look at the person he had unwittingly walked into. Viktor was met with a sight that he had never expected to see during his morning routine. His azure eyes landed on the face in front of him, his mouth opening slightly in surprise. It was a face that he was sure by now that he would recognise anywhere, even in the short time that he had acquainted himself with it.

The man’s raven hair was not in the slicked back style that Viktor was used to seeing, but instead had locks of it hanging over his forehead and curled around his ears. His copper eyes were hidden behind large, blue framed glasses that rested high up the bridge of his slightly red nose. A sky blue scarf was wrapped around his neck and he wore a brown coat that swallowed his, Viktor knew to be, muscular frame. He looked _so_ cute.

 “Yuuri,” Viktor quickly recalled the name he had seared to memory the previous night.

The man’s eyes widened in their stare, as if in horror, causing Viktor’s brilliant smile to falter. He took a step back and diverted his gaze down to the ground.

“I…I,” he pulled his scarf over his mouth. “I’m sorry for spilling your drink,” he rushed out in a mumble before swiftly turning on his heel and walking away.

_Huh?_

“Wait!” Viktor shouted, reaching out his hand.

Instead of turning back round at the calling, the man sped down the pathway. Viktor proceeded to chase after him, not really caring about the coffee that was spilling over the confines of the cup.

“Yuuri!”

The man did not look back, as he continued to slip through the crowd that only got in Viktor’s way. More distance formed between the two men and Viktor knew he would not be able to catch up with him. He did not have the stamina to chase after people anymore. The silver haired man halted his pursuit, coming to a standstill in the middle of the pathway.

 _Strange… Maybe it wasn’t him_.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, as he watched the far retreating back of the maybe-Yuuri speed down the street. Viktor took out his phone and saw that he only had ten minutes before he needed to be in for work.

_Great. What a way to start the day._

 

* * *

 

For the rest of the day Viktor had been distracted. Try as he might to concentrate on his important business meetings, he could not remove the events of that morning from his mind. The sudden meeting he had with the maybe-Yuuri, and the resulting chase, continued to replay in his minds-eye.

Had the man really been Yuuri?

Could Viktor possibly be so far gone with his obsession with the mysterious man that he was imposing his want onto complete strangers?

Not that Yuuri was _not_ a stranger. They had only talked once… or maybe twice now. But, there was just something there that felt like so much more than the coldness that existed between strangers. Like there was something deeper. Ah, who was he kidding?

He was just a lonely twenty-seven-year-old, recently dumped, and looking for a real significant other.

Viktor sighed heavily as he walked into the gay bar, the one of very few in St. Petersburg, for the fifth night in a row. He would catch Yuuri after his shift and just ask him. As simple as that.

The man watched Yuuri dance at his usual spot in front of the stage, and was just as captivated by him as he had been the first night. But, the pole dancer refused to give Viktor his cheeky pre-performance wink, or even look at him in the crowd, like he had been during his previous performances. Viktor did not let his heart ache from the loss of the little connection they had. Had their friendship died before it had even really begun? Could he even call it that?

No. He was going to confront Yuuri and ask him what was going on.

The performance ended, bringing Viktor out of his musings. The raven haired man hurried off the stage and Viktor pounced into action. He left as swiftly as the other man did, determined to catch Yuuri as he exited the club. The silver haired man weaved meticulously through the crowd to find the most direct, and quickest, route to the exit, but it was like an ulterior force was instructing everyone to get in his way.

Eventually Viktor made it out into the brisk, autumn air. He cast his azure gaze around frantically, knowing that he had taken too long for him to get out of the doors. Not immediately seeing the raven haired man he was looking for, he chose a direction and walked. Raised voices and scuffling was heard not too far ahead of him. Viktor advanced up the pathway, seeing the lamplight spilling into an alleyway where the sounds seemed to be coming from. Grunts joined the noises, along with thudding. Viktor grew concerned as he neared the entrance of the alley.

Something was definitely wrong.

“Dirty fag!” A voice shouted, from behind the brick building that shielded Viktor’s view from what was happening in the alley.

At the slur, Viktor picked up speed and covered the rest of the short distance in a matter of seconds. How dare someone use such foul language toward another. Not in the twenty-first century. Society was supposed to be past that kind of discrimination. The silver haired man swept round the corner and stood at the mouth of the poorly lit alleyway. The streetlight behind him cast his shadow, dark and long, over three men who were grouped around a figure curled in on themselves on the floor.

“You’re disgusting!” A different voice from before hollered, while another of the men drew back his foot and kicked their prone victim in the stomach.

The person grunted and lurched forward from the impact of the foot. Coughing wracked the victim’s frame as they clutched at their stomach.

“S-stop… Please…” The definitely male voice wheezed, their face obscured by the group around him.

“Aww, look! He’s begging,” the man closest to Viktor jeered. “He must be a sub,” he clapped his fellow attackers on the back, laughing like he was the most hilarious person in the world.

They laughed along with him.

Viktor hands clenched into fists by his sides. What right did they have to do that to someone? The man was not able to take the disgusting sight any longer. He charged toward the group.

“Hey!” Viktor shouted, ready to yank the attackers away from the person as soon as he reached them. “What do you think you’re doing?” His voice was venomous.

The three men whirled round at the sudden voice. Their faces displayed momentary shock until they saw that it was just one person coming toward them. They advanced on Viktor, meeting him in the middle of his charge, and stopped just shy of stepping on his feet as they surrounded him.

Turned out the three men were actually teenagers. They appeared to be around sixteen, or seventeen and they wore matching sneers that could rival his cousin’s. Except Viktor knew that these teenagers did not hold that kind of care in their hearts that he found in his dear cousin.

“This your boyfriend, fag?” The teenager directly in front of him spat, inclining his head to their victim behind them.

Viktor willed himself to stay calm. Using violence to solve violence was not an option.

“And what does that matter?” The silver haired man retorted, staring right into the dark eyes.

A malicious grin cracked across the attacker’s face. “Just need to know if we need to teach another filthy thing a lesson.”

The two teenagers who flanked him cracked their knuckles at his words, chuckling.

Viktor’s azure gaze caught sight of movement from the person behind the wall of teenagers. The man’s back was to the group. He struggled to raise himself from the concrete, from his lying position, as he braced himself on his shaking arms. The supporting pillars barely held his weight. Viktor watched the man reach for something just to the side of him on the floor. Their surface caught the light of the streetlamp behind them.

 _Glasses_.

The man shifted to an upright sitting position and leaned heavily against the brick wall beside him. He placed the glasses on his face and turned to look at the group.

Wide-rimmed, dark eyes met Viktor’s. Fear etched into their depths and in the lines around them.

Black hair. Slicked back, but locks had fallen from their place.

A face he had seen not long ago on stage. But, the expression of seduction was instead replaced by one of pain.

 _Yuuri_.

Recognition shot through Viktor, making him feel sick. The silver haired man’s mouth dropped open, as he was shoved backward by the teenagers. He focused back on the group crowding him, irritation clear on their features. Evidently not happy that they had been ignored.

“Oi, homo. Answer him.” One of the others spoke, kissing his teeth.

Anger flooded through him. White hot. It coursed through his veins, begging Viktor to make these teenagers pay for what they had done. Not only had they attacked someone, but it was someone he knew. Absolutely unforgivable.

Viktor levelled the teenager directly in front of him, who he supposed was the leader of their little gang, with a hard, cold stare.

He spoke slowly, through gritted teeth, to make sure that the message went across loud and clear. “You have one minute to leave before I call the police.”

The teenager crossed his arms and leaned back on his heels, taking on a cocky grin. “Like you would. We’ll be done with you before they even get here.”

Viktor continued to stare steadily, not perturbed by the words. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone.

“Time is ticking.”

The teenagers backed away slightly, looking incredulous. Like they did not quite believe he would follow through with his threat. The man brought the phone up to his ear.

“Yes, hello.” Viktor smirked as he watched three pairs of eyes widen. “I would like to report an unprovoked homophobic attack. Yes, we’re-”

“You dirty fuck,” the assumed leader hollered, before he swept past Viktor, knocking him to the side as the teenager did so.

 The other two of the group shared a horrified glance and followed in the teenager’s wake, running.

Viktor lowered the phone immediately.

“Yuuri,” he breathed out.

The silver haired man rushed to where Yuuri sat, hunched in himself, against the wall. He kneeled on the floor before the injured dancer, who had his knees drawn up to lean his forehead against them with his arms wrapped around his torso. Viktor’s hands hovered over his shaking form, not wanting to touch him in case he shocked or hurt him even more.

“Yuuri, how hurt are you?” Viktor whispered, hoping to soothe the man. Let him know that he was safe with him.

The raven haired man lifted his head from his knees and peered at Viktor. His beautiful copper eyes were glazed over with pain.

“Viktor,” he said, the sudden use of voice causing him to cough.

Viktor paused.

 _He remembers my name_.

The happiness the fact brought him momentarily clouded the worry, and anger, that were swirling inside him. His name sounded so great from his lips. Like a dream come true. The dancer had remembered the one of many he probably learned the name of in his job.

No, he had to push those thoughts aside.

Yuuri needed his help. He could not be caught up in his romantic feelings.

“I’ll take you to the hospital,” Viktor offered, motioning to help the dancer up.

Yuuri shook his head, looking at Viktor with a saddened expression. “I’m… I’m fine. The queues are too long and…” The man paused to take in a breath, as if to steady his breathing. “I’ve had worse than this and been okay.”

_He’s had worse than this..._

What on earth has he had to deal with in his life to think being kicked in the stomach is okay? To know that the hospital queues were always long?

Viktor searched Yuuri’s face for answers. Absolute concern and empathy filled his being. It was then that Viktor caught the irregular reflection of the streetlight in the lens of Yuuri’s glasses. Multiple cracks fissured their way through the once smooth lenses. Upon further inspection, the deep blue frame was bent as if it had been stamped on. The sight made the anger inside of him surge to greater heights.

Yuuri evidently needed the glasses greatly if he had put them on with the state they were in. The attackers just had to destroy everything. They could not have left one thing for Yuuri to have after they were done with him. It took Viktor a tremendous amount of effort in his self-control to suppress the growl that wanted to escape his throat. He had to curb his anger and the surge of protectiveness, so that he did not scare the damaged man in front of him. So that he could look after him properly.

The silver haired man took a deep breath. “At least let me clean you up at my place.”

Yuuri whipped his copper gaze up to Viktor, surprise evident in his eyes. There was light in every bad thing.

“My flat is a short walk from here,” the silver haired man urged, hoping that Yuuri took his offer.

The dancer nodded. “O-okay.”

Viktor smiled slightly at the acceptance, relief washing through him. He was glad that he had not had to beg, because there was no way that he was going to leave Yuuri in his state.

The man extended his left hand, palm upward, toward Yuuri. “Here, let me help you walk. I’m sure that’s painful.”

Yuuri’s expression turned grateful as he gripped Viktor’s hand and leaned his weight into it. As Yuuri was leant forward, Viktor placed his right arm around the man’s back to grip at his side just below the arm. He guided Yuuri to slowly stand, hating the pained whimpers and groans that were caused by the movement. Once the hand that Viktor had been holding was placed on his shoulder, to give Yuuri extra stability, the two began their slow walk to his flat.

“What about the police?” Yuuri spoke breathily, the exertion too much to keep his voice level.

“Ah, I didn’t call them.”

At his words, Yuuri turned his face up to Viktor who was already peering down at the man. Viktor noted the beads of sweat on the other’s forehead and the questioning look he have him.

“I was more concerned about making sure you were okay. So, I just thought of something that would make them run away.”

Viktor was sheepish at the admission. He knew that he should have actually called the police, those teenagers had committed a crime. But, if he had then they would have had to wait for them to arrive, and that would have delayed Yuuri getting any medical attention. Even if the only medicine he was going to get was from the first aid kit in Viktor’s kitchen, but it was better than waiting in the cold alleyway.

He fully expected Yuuri to berate him for lying. But, when he searched the quiet man’s face all he saw was surprise, and… was that wonder? Yuuri diverted his eyes to the road ahead of him, wincing in pain. Viktor decided not to question it. Instead he focused on getting the injured man home. If he wanted to press charges, Yuuri could go to the police station in the morning and file a statement. Viktor would, of course, help him with that. If he let him.

Viktor had desperately wanted to talk to the pole dancer that night. But, there was no way in hell that he had wished to do so under these circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These scenes turned out way longer than I expected it to! I just couldn't stop writing XD
> 
> Thank you everyone for your kudos and comments so far! They seriously make my day ^.^  
> I love to know what you guys think/ how you react to the chapter, so keep hitting me up with those comments!
> 
> If you want to talk to me about the fanfic, Yuri!!! on Ice, or just anime in general, find me @SakuraWindChime on Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor treats Yuuri's wounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've updated the description to make it sound less like a thesis and more like a story, haha - there's not much difference, but it reads a bit better now!  
> Enjoy the chapter :)

Viktor had never been more thankful for the elevator that was within his apartment block. In the last few meters of road before the high raised building, Yuuri had begun to wheeze loudly from his wracking pain. The silver haired man had tried to get them to stop, take a breather, but the dancer had refused. Urged them to continue, otherwise he did not know whether he would be able to keep going.

The slow ascent of the elevator was maddening and the music far from relaxing with Yuuri’s laboured breathing next to him. All he was able to do was stare at their reflection in the mirrored interior. Viktor’s expression was plastered with concern, brows knitted tightly together, while Yuuri’s eyes were hidden from view by his half-closed lids and his mouth open slightly from panting. He leaned heavily onto Viktor, who was basically carrying him, as he clutched around his midriff and the white lighting of the elevator glistened off the light sweat that gathered on Yuuri’s face.

On the notification panel above the door, the light for Viktor’s floor flashed. A sense of security released itself within Viktor at the knowledge that he Yuuri were going to be safe within his apartment soon. He was in a constant fear that the dancer would collapse at any moment.

A familiar sound of a welcoming woof made its way through the emptiness of the elevator shaft just above them.

_Makkachin!_

Viktor would have physically slapped a hand over his face if he had not been holding onto Yuuri. How could he have forgotten about his beloved pet? Panic fluttered within Viktor.

What if Yuuri did not like dogs?

Not everyone was as comfortable with dogs as he was, especially when they were injured…

“I hope you’re okay with dogs,” Viktor remarked nervously, afraid of the answer to his almost question.

Instead of outright refusal, Viktor witnessed a small smile grace Yuuri’s grimaced features briefly and he felt elation at the sight.

“I… I actually love them,” Yuuri breathed brokenly.

That was the best reply he could have hoped for and the silver haired man sagged in relief.

 _Thank goodness for that_.

With a ding to signal their arrival on the top floor, the elevator slowed to a stop and the metal doors slid open. Not quickly enough for Viktor’s liking. Strange how its speed had never bothered him before. But, never before had he been so worried about getting into, or out of, his apartment.

Makkachin bounded toward the staggering pair excitedly. But, the brown poodle seemed to sense that something was wrong, as he did not jump up at the new stranger in his home like he normally would. Instead, he stood waiting for his owner to walk in. Viktor thanked him internally, silently promising to give him extra treats when Yuuri was taken care of.

Viktor swept the injured dancer out of the elevator and into his apartment as quickly as the man would allow him. Thankfully his living room was not far from the entrance, where he took them to the nearest sofa and gently lowered Yuuri onto the soft, royal blue seat. He kept a hand at Yuuri’s shoulders, to prevent him from completely leaning back, while he arranged the grey decoration cushions behind the man to provide him with extra comfort. Viktor released his hold and allowed Yuuri to slump back into the seat.

In his peripheral vision, Viktor noticed Makkachin jump onto the other side of the sofa. The dog settled down to rest his head on his front legs, and peered at Yuuri with his large poodle eyes, keeping quiet.

Turning his attention away from his pet, Viktor saw the agony that laced the other man’s features and his body was tense to fight against the pain. He needed to proceed with his care for the dancer.

“Relax as much as you can. I’ll be right back with pain medication and things to patch you up with.” Viktor reassured and waited for Yuuri’s response, in case he protested or needed something else urgently.

Yuuri nodded, tight and short, and Viktor took that as his cue to take action. But, before he left his position, he looked at Makkachin warmly.

 _Keep an eye on him for me_ , Viktor wished.

His pet huffed as if in affirmation and the man took off.

The silver haired man rushed around his kitchen, not bothering to close any of the drawers or cupboards after him as he rummaged around. He grabbed his first aid kit, the strongest over the counter pain medication he had, and a glass of cold water. With his supplies in his hands and under his arm, Viktor crossed the distance between the sofa Yuuri was on and the kitchen in a few quick strides. He kneeled down in front of the injured man and dropped the first aid kit onto the floor, keeping the water and medication in his hands.

He peered up at Yuuri.

“Before I give you these, I need you to tell me as much about your injuries as you can. How much does it all hurt?” Viktor tried to keep as calm as possible, hoping to transfer some of it to Yuuri.

The raven haired man withdrew the lids from his eyes. Their gorgeous copper irises were revealed, but were glazed over as they focused on the man in front of him. In their close proximity, Viktor smelt the faint odour of alcohol on Yuuri’s breath as he exhaled and drew in as much breath as he could before he spoke.

“The alcohol is wearing off… Pain is stronger now…” Yuuri struggled to speak evenly

Viktor frowned a little at the mention of the alcohol, worried that its effects had numbed more of the damage than Yuuri was aware of. He set down the water and medication.

“Do you feel anything wrong with your ribs?” Viktor enquired.

Yuuri shook his head. “I-I don’t think so. Nothing sharp there.”

At the unsure tone of his voice, Viktor was not satisfied with the answer. He did not want to take any chances. They had to be as thorough as they could be without any professional medical assistance. He raised his hands and motioned toward Yuuri’s chest, a little nervous about what he was asking to do. He did not want to be rejected, or forceful, but if the other man refused then he would have to be.

 “Can I?” Viktor asked quietly, fully aware that he was asking permission to touch the dancer more intimately than they had before.

To the other man they were just strangers, mere acquaintances, and here he was asking to touch his body.

Yuuri just stared and Viktor felt the fight begin to raise within him. Ready to bring on a whole speech about how the actions were strictly to make sure he lived through the night and that he definitely did not need to go the hospital. But, as the silver haired man prepared himself he caught the look within Yuuri’s gaze.

There was understanding there… Mixed with an emotion that Viktor could not quite read. After this whole ordeal was over, Viktor would very much like the opportunity to become well acquainted with those complicated emotions that seemed to be trapped behind those beautiful eyes.

He watched as the man gritted his teeth, jaw locking, and moved back enough into the cushions to remove his wrapped arms from around his torso and straightened out his hunched over body. Yuuri silently accepted his proposition; willingly invited him for the examination.

Viktor thanked whatever heavenly body there was out there in the world that Yuuri trusted him enough to touch him like that. He just wished that the dancer had allowed a professional to look over him properly. If Viktor missed anything, he would never forgive himself.

The man reached forward, leaning up onto the balls of his feet to gain a better level with Yuuri’s sitting form. Viktor tentatively unzipped the brown coat that covered Yuuri’s body and moved it enough apart so that he could access his torso easily. Underneath revealed the costume the dancer had been wearing earlier that night for his performance, the clothing so tight that he was able to see clearly the stutter of his breathing. It had only been about an hour or so since then, but it seemed like a long time ago. He only had to worry about cornering Yuuri in time to ask why he had run away from him outside the café, and now he was tending to his wounds…

He was just grateful that he had been there to find Yuuri before his attackers hurt him even more.

Viktor felt around Yuuri’s rib cage gently, watching his face intently for any signs of sudden discomfort from the prodding. He made sure to be thorough, covering every rib, but the search elicited no differing reaction from the injured man. He figured that would be the case, considering that Yuuri had not admitted any mention to having a damaged rib cage. But, it was better to be safe than sorry.

“Judging by the fact that this isn’t causing you more pain, I think it’s safe to say nothing is cracked or broken.” He analysed as he withdrew his slightly shaking hands away from Yuuri’s body.

“I agree,” Yuuri exhaled in reply.

Viktor swept his gaze from Yuuri’s torso up to the man’s face again, only now allowing himself really to see the extent of the bruising that had begun to blossom across his cheeks. The dark red covered his right cheek bone and patterned down across his lower jaw. His gaze was drawn to the dried blood that had trickled down the man’s chin, the line smeared sideways in what must have been an attempt by Yuuri to clear away the crimson liquid when it had spilled. Viktor followed the line and found that it had bled from the large split that cracked its way painfully through his swollen lower lip.

In the warm lighting of Viktor’s flat, the raven haired man looked an absolute mess. Damaged, bloody, and sweat covered. Those stupid teenagers really did a number on him… In such a short amount of time too…

It had been a full on assault, and for what? Because he worked at a gay bar?! They had no right to hurt anyone just for that.

The silver haired man forced himself to look away, as he felt his hands ball into fists. His rage reared its ugly head again and he had to focus on his breathing to calm himself down. It really would not do if he became too worked up to tend to Yuuri with the utmost care he deserved.

However, he would have to give his attention to the less urgent injuries on Yuuri’s face later. At that moment, he had to prepare himself to investigate where he knew the real damage lied. Viktor inhaled a breath to steel himself and looked the man right in the eyes, to find that the copper irises were already trained on him.

“Can I feel your stomach now?” Apprehension gripped Viktor, threatening to filter into the tone he was trying so hard to keep calm.

Knowing that Yuuri’s abdomen was the most affected area, from where Viktor had witnessed the attackers kicking him, Viktor feared the worst. He hated that he was about to cause Yuuri more agony than he was already in.

“Y-yeah. Let me just…” The raven haired man took in a breath, held it, and screwed his eyes shut.

“Okay, go,” Yuuri’s voice shook slightly, like he had tried to hide it but did not quite manage to conceal it completely.

“I’ll be as quick as I can,” Viktor tried to reassure.

The man just nodded, gritting his teeth.

Viktor proceeded with his investigation straight away, not wanting to prolong Yuuri’s anxiety any longer than he had to. He moved his hands as tenderly as he could around the man’s abdomen, making sure to cover the whole surface. Yuuri’s left hand gripped the arm of the sofa, his nails biting into the suede fabric harshly. Viktor found it remarkable that the man had not made a single groan of pain since he had begun his examination; instead Yuuri had borne his agony in near silence.

Again, the dancer’s reaction to the pain of the investigation was consistent across the whole of his abdomen. Viktor ceased his probing and pulled back, not wanting his touch to overstay its welcome even though he desperately wanted to comfort the hurting man in front of him.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not bleeding internally. If something had burst, you’d be reacting a lot worse than this.” Viktor summarised with relief.

Yuuri exhaled in a whoosh, releasing his grip on the sofa. Viktor noted that his breathing had levelled out from its panting since they had first entered the apartment.  

“I think so too,” the dancer spoke as his eyes slid closed.

He looked _so_ tired and Viktor wished he could oblige. It must have been about three o’clock in the morning at this point. But, he had to complete his care for the man before he could offer him his bed to sleep on.

“Is there anything else?”

Yuuri kept his eyes closed. “Face strings. Don’t feel any signs of concussion.”

The almost checklist-like tone surprised Viktor and a remark that Yuuri had made earlier that night struck him.

_I’ve had worse than this and been okay._

Did he just give the answers to questions that he had been asked before? Just so that he did not have to hear them again?

Viktor was not able to stop himself from picking at the words. He had to know, _needed_ to know, what awful things Yuuri had experienced before.

“You seem oddly practised at answering these questions.”

The dancer opened his eyes at that, their rims widened before becoming neutral.

“And you seem oddly practised at asking them,” Yuuri shot back almost immediately.

_Touché._

Then silence as the pair stared at one another.

It _bothered_ Viktor that Yuuri had avoided his probing statement. But, then again, Viktor had gone silent at the man’s own come back. As to his own faltering to retort, Viktor had to admit that Yuuri had not been the first person he had helped after being attacked…

He just hoped that he would be the last. No-one should be subjected to such violence from another being. It was something Viktor felt extremely strongly about. It was part of the reason why he left _there_ in the first place…

Alas, he digressed. Yuuri, here and now, needed his help. He did not need to start getting caught up in the past at a time like this.

Movement in front of him dragged him from his inward attention back to reality. Viktor watched Yuuri wrap his arms around his torso yet again. His azure eyes widened in horror as he realised that he had still, cruelly, not given the dancer the pain medication. He mentally scolded himself for allowing his personal matters get in the way of his care for Yuuri. He swiftly picked up the glass and the box of medication he had laid beside him on the woolly rug.

“You should take these for the pain,” Viktor offered.

Yuuri eyed the medication, reading the box.

“Thank you,” he said quietly as he took it and the water gratefully with shaking hands.

The dancer popped out the tablets and gulped them down with the cool water, while Viktor moved to open the first aid kit. He sought some alcohol-free cleansing wipes and Steristrips, pulling them out of the box to place beside him.

He returned his azure gaze to Yuuri, meeting the man’s eyes behind his broken glasses.

“I’m going to clean up your face now,” he warned before leaning into the dancer’s space.

He tore open one of the wipe packets and set about to tenderly clean the sore-looking split on Yuuri’s lip. It was distracting for Viktor to be so close to Yuuri, when he had become used to watching the man on stage from afar. Those beautiful copper eyes were trained on his every move as he treated the dancer’s injuries, and it took all of Viktor’s will power not to do anything more than just clean up his wounds.

Yuuri pulled out of Viktor’s light grasp on his chin. His hands were left suspended in the air as he frantically wondered if he had done something wrong. Had he unintentionally said any of his thoughts out loud?

“Viktor…”

The silver haired man held his breath.

“I… uh… Thanks. For this.” Yuuri dashed his gaze away to settle somewhere to the side of Viktor.

And released it.

“Oh. No need to thank me! Anyone would have done this!” The silver haired man laughed from relief, as the grip around his heart lifted.

“But… You don’t even know me,” Yuuri spoke quietly.

“Nonsense, we’ve met before now and you needed help. I wasn’t going to just leave you in the alleyway after being attacked.” Viktor waved the words away and resumed his cleaning of the split lip, moving to wipe away the dried crimson from Yuuri’s chin.

Yuuri seemed at a loss for words, something akin to wonder in his slack jawed gaze. Viktor ventured to look at the man’s face while pretending to be focused on wiping. Was that a blush he saw?

 _A bit difficult to tell through the bruising_ , Viktor thought grimly.

Silence descended upon the pair again as Viktor finished cleaning all of the dried blood away and disinfected the wound. It was only then that it occurred to him that he had not even thought to ask an important question. If Yuuri lived with anyone they must be worried sick about him not returning home.

“Do you have a partner, or someone I can call who you live with?” Viktor questioned.

“Uh, no… I live on my own,” the raven haired man replied, seemingly taken aback by the sudden question.

Viktor busied himself with the Steristrips, peeling away their protective backs to reveal the adhesive beneath.

The man had not actually answered the first of his questions, did that mean…?

“So, you’re not in a relationship?” The question slipped past Viktor’s lips before he was able to stop the words.

Yuuri stilled suddenly, seemingly even paused his breathing. Viktor’s hands faltered in their attachment of the white Steristrips across the split on Yuuri’s lip, as he mentally reprimanded himself.

_Oh no…_

“No?” The other man spoke cautiously, letting his breath run past his lips once again.

_Ding, ding, ding, no relationship!_

_Wait…_

“Why the questioning tone?” Viktor tried to swallow the ebb of excitement that rose up inside of him from the revelation.

He resumed his attachment of the Steristrips, sticking the last one on to make sure the wound was closed. He had not failed to notice that the man in front of him had become stiff, seemingly distracting his attention my picking at the edge of his coat.

“I-I’m not sure why you’re asking?”

Ah, walked right into that one…

_Think of something quick!_

Viktor threw on his kilowatt smile and crinkled his eyes in the best way he knew how.

“If you were, then I’m sure they would be worried about you,” he spoke with a light tone.

That combination should throw him off the scent, it had always worked before.

Yuuri’s eyebrows furrowed and cast his eyes down to the floor.

“Ah, right… yeah,” he sounded almost… defeated. Sad.

The dancer was an interesting man indeed. As a leading businessman in his family’s company, Viktor had learned to be able to read people as soon as he met them. To figure out their motives, their wants, and what made them tick. Any information that he was able to gather from analysing their words, or watching their body language, could be manipulated to make them seal the deal.

But, Yuuri was different. As soon as Viktor thought he was just starting to gauge something on his personality, there was something else revealed which threw a spanner into his meagre understanding.

All of this somehow drew Viktor to the man even more than he already was. He wanted to know all these details about the beautiful raven haired man.

But, first, rest!

“I’ve patched you up the best I can,” Viktor announced, as he raised himself from the floor.

Yuuri ripped his gaze away from the floor and snapped his copper irises onto Viktor. The silver haired man had picked up the first aid kit and begun to move toward the kitchen as he spoke.

“You can stay here for the night. My room is just-”

“No, no, you’ve done enough for me already,” Yuuri interrupted. “My flat isn’t actually that far from here.”

“Don’t be silly, Yuuri,” Viktor lightly chided.

He heard Makkachin whine from the living room.

“ _Argh_!”

Viktor’s body went into full alert at the voice filled with agony. Fear pierced through him. He dropped the first aid kit on the counter and rushed back to the sofa where Yuuri had been sitting. He found the dark haired man curled in on himself at the base of the sofa, heavily panting into his knees. Makkachin hovered next to him, his tail low, whining quietly. He rushed to the man’s side, dropping to his knees to try and look at his face.

“Yuuri. _Yuuri_. Tell me what happened! Are you in more pain?” Viktor rushed out, completely unable to mask the panic in his voice.

“N-Nothing. I just… tried to stand up.” Yuuri’s voice was strained, but he lifted his head up to try and reassure Viktor of his words.

Viktor sighed heavily in relief. “That settles it then. There is _no_ way that you can get back to your place in this state.” Azure eyes levelled steadily on copper. “ _Especially_ when you live on your own and you could get worse.”

That mixed, unreadable emotion swirled within Yuuri’s gaze again. Before, _again_ , he flickered it away.

“Okay, I’ll stay,” the man conceded.

Viktor beamed. “Great! Now let me help you up, so that you can rest.”

The silver haired man did not give Yuuri any time to reply, before he lifted the man into his arms to carry him princess style to his bedroom. The dancer let out a squawk, quickly followed by a wince, at being lifted but otherwise did not protest.

He laid Yuuri gently on his bed, told him to sleep, and promptly left the room. He left the door on ajar, so that he was able to keep an eye on the injured man during the night. If Yuuri became any worse while he slept, Viktor vowed to himself that he would take him to hospital whether he liked it or not.

The man’s mind was reeling from what had happened. Could it have been a cruel twist of fate that the very man he had been pining over the past few days ended up in his flat that night? He found it amusing that bringing a man back to his flat typically meant that he was going to get laid, not having to treat his wounds…

With his thoughts whirling around his head, Viktor settled on the sofa with Makkachin lying beside him. Though he did not sleep much for the rest of the night time that was left, keeping a constant eye on Yuuri out of worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, this is the longest chapter I have written for either of my YOI fanfics so far! I hope you guys liked it!
> 
> Let me know what you thought of the chapter, your comments feed the muse <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri awakes in an unfamiliar place and a promise is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to welcome my wonderful new beta [Cenerea](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Cenerea/pseuds/Cenerea)  
> and I'm honoured to have her on board <3

His sluggish consciousness emerged after another vivid dream, promptly forgotten as soon as it was realised, and everything _hurt_.

Yuuri groaned at the continuous throbbing that came with every intake of breath, no matter how shallow. The only comfort was the soft, plush fabric of the bedding that surrounded his vulnerable form. He nuzzled into the pillow, seeking to delve further into its welcoming embrace, to lull back into the sleep his aching body demanded. The smell of fuchsia drifted from the disturbed cotton, causing Yuuri to crinkle his nose in confusion.

He did not wash his things with that kind of scented washing powder. He preferred to use the more subtle, relaxing smell of lavender…

Copper eyes cracked open, immediately registering that the room he was in was much larger and brighter than his own. His eyes widened, panic seizing his body and cold fear spread across his chest at the unfamiliar location. Yuuri was rooted to his solitary place in the bed plenty large enough for two people.

Surely he had not become so drunk at work last night that he ended up being persuaded back by a customer? Or _forced_ back by how his body was feeling.

It would not have been the first time that he had ended up in that kind of situation. But, that time Phichit had been there to tell the man to shove his grubby hands where the sun does not shine, and to crawl back to his pit in hell.

Sickness curled within Yuuri’s stomach, his hand twisting into an anxious fist to place above his rapidly beating heart. There was no way…

_Please._

The fear threatened to take over, to replace any of Yuuri’s rational thinking. He forced himself to think. To _just breathe_.

He desperately willed his brain to kick start into processing what had happened the night before. He had finished his shift at work and left the bar quickly.

No… That was it. He had not been picked up by someone looking to have a good time.

He had been attacked by a group who had shoved him into an alleyway. Yuuri had been _so_ scared, legitimately fearing for his life as he could do nothing but lay on the floor as he received blow, after punishing blow. Then _that_ man with beautiful azure eyes, with hair like the moon. The one who had become his addict had become his saviour.

That man who had called himself Viktor when Yuuri had sought him out at the bar a couple of nights ago.

Knocking at the door startled Yuuri, wrenching him out of his thoughts. His head whipped toward the noise, the jolt eliciting a harsh hiss through his teeth from his pained body.

“Yuuri?” A soft, male voice came through the widening gap of the door.

Two of the clearest azure eyes Yuuri had ever seen pierced through the neutral colours of room. In the bar those eyes had been dark and so full of alluring promise, but in the pallor of the room they _glowed_ with a softness that stole Yuuri’s breath away. His saviour walked through the opening, smiling as he saw Yuuri staring at him from the bed.

“Ah good, you’re awake. How are you feeling?” He spoke calmly, reaching the bed with a tray in his hands.

Yuuri struggled into an upright position, movement slowed considerably to avoid agonising his injuries any more than he had to. The smell of food wafted into his nostrils and his stomach growled, realising that he had not eaten since before work yesterday. His saviour chuckled at the sound.

“I… Uh, V-Viktor?” Yuuri questioned, uncertainty lacing his tone.

He was still struggling to wrap his head around everything that had happened. The bed dipped beside him and Yuuri looked up to see that Viktor had sat down, after depositing the tray on the bed side table. Silver brows furrowed in concern upon seeing Yuuri’s upturned face.

“You look really pale. Is the pain really bad? I’m sorry, I’ll go and get you some more medication right away,” Viktor rushed out and begun to move away.

“N-No!” Yuuri almost shouted, grabbing a hold of Viktor’s forearm before he could get up.

He had not meant to do that, the sudden action causing pain to lance through his abdomen. But… it felt reassuring an anchor of sorts. The contact provided Yuuri a form of comfort, but he could not fathom why. He ignored Viktor’s surprised expression.

“I was just shocked to wake up somewhere else…” The man said toward the duvet almost apologetically, his grip on Viktor’s arm slackening.

Understanding cleared the unease on the other man’s features.

“You’re safe here, Yuuri. I’m not going to hurt you,” Viktor reassured softly, tentatively raising his hand to lay it over Yuuri’s on his arm.

The contact caused Yuuri to blush and avert his gaze. It was embarrassing enough that he had reached out for Viktor in the first place, but to have the other man initiate contact as well? It was too much! This was the kind of thing he left for his outgoing alcohol induced persona to deal with at work, not for his stone cold sober mind to cope with.

It was only when he had alcohol as his back up that he was able to let go. To shed all of his insecurities and inhibitions. There would be no other way for Yuuri to do his job otherwise.

“I know… Thank you for all of this, Viktor.” Yuuri peered back up, because he was quickly finding it very difficult to keep himself from looking at those eyes.

A warm grin grew on the silver haired man’s face, lighting up the entire room. Yuuri went slightly slack jawed at the sight. Viktor was just so… mesmerising. How could a person be so beautiful?

“You’re more than welcome, Yuuri.” Azure eyes held his gaze, enraptured. “Though this is the second time you have thanked me, so you don’t need to anymore. It’s enough thanks just to see you safe and well,” Viktor finished off with a playful wink.

That sent Yuuri over the edge. He swiftly removed his hand from under Viktor’s and pressed it against his mouth, as he felt the heat of his blush creep up his neck to the tips of his ears.

"Anyway, you should eat up before your breakfast gets cold," Viktor stood up from the bed to grab the tray and laid it gently on Yuuri's lap. "I'll get you more medication  and some ice to take the edge off the pain. I'm sure you'll want to shower too; the bathroom's just through there," Yuuri followed the man's hand pointing at the door on the other side of the bedroom. "I have some old clothes laying around here somewhere that should just about fit you. I'll leave them on the bed for you."

The silver haired man smiled, which Yuuri returned, before turning away to exit the room. Yuuri opened his mouth to thank him, but cut himself off upon remembering what Viktor had said not long before. He watched as Viktor turned to look back over his shoulder and shut the door behind him.

Yuuri was at a loss for words and gratitude. Viktor barely even knew him, yet here he was: housing him after saving him from an attack and practically waiting on him hand and foot. Not only that, but this person who was basically a stranger seemed to be more in tune with his feelings than anyone else had ever been. Phichit is the only other person who was aware of his need to have things clearly explained to, lest his anxious mind jump to ridiculous conclusions. The dancer smiled to himself, as he set about to answer the rumble in his stomach.

This man was something else.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri was an enigma.

The cool, sexy demeanour he exuded on the dancing stage was the polar opposite to the man who blushed at almost every word he said, stuttering like a school girl. It was like there were two personalities within Yuuri, each given their appropriate screen time.

Not that it was off- putting, it was the total opposite in fact. The Yuuri from the morning was utterly adorable, to the point where Viktor wanted to wrap him in an embrace and never let go.

Then there were moments when the other Yuuri would burst through the cracks of the compact exterior in all his erotic confidence. The moment where he had unexpectedly grasped his arm before Yuuriad known what he was doing, for one. Or, when Yuuri walked out of his bedroom, dressed in Viktor’s clothes with his luscious locks of hair still damp from the shower. The shirt he had borrowed was large enough to show just the right amount of clavicle, with the neck _just_ shy of falling down his shoulder.

Sensuality just seemed to come so natural to the raven, and it was _so_ damn attractive.

So why were his two selves in such conflict?

Viktor watched as Makkachin bounced around Yuuri as he entered the living room, the dog already taking a great liking to his guest. Almost as much as Yuuri seemed to like him in return, if the grin that spread across his face upon seeing the poodle was anything to go by. The man looked almost childlike as he slowly knelt down, bracing his body against the doorway for support.

“Hello,” he cooed, running his hands through the curly, brown fur.

Warmth bloomed in Viktor’s chest at the endearing sight.

“What’s its name?”

Viktor’s gaze snapped up to meet Yuuri’s, looking like molten copper. It was only then that Viktor realised that he had been sporting a stupidly wide smile and fought to dim it, before the man before him wrote him off as weird. Something that he does not doubt his darling cousin would have done by now.

“He’s – uh – Makkachin,” Viktor replied less than eloquently, and he mentally face palmed.

How was it that just a simple look from Yuuri could send his usually cool and collected persona into a spiralling hot mess? It was beyond anything he had ever experienced before.

“Makkachin,” Yuuri repeated quietly, like he was trying out the name.

Viktor watched curiously as Yuuri’s gaze trailed off somewhere in the distance, hand still in the dog’s fur. The lack of petting was immediately noticed by Makkachin, much to the cuddle hungry animal’s dissatisfaction, who reached up to give the man a sloppy lick to his face. Yuuri let out a startled squeak before resuming his petting with increased vigour. Viktor had to wrap his arms around himself to quell his urge to hug Yuuri.

“You remind me of my old dog, Makkachin,” Yuuri said, to which the poodle replied with more licking.

Yuuri let out a peal of laughter, sounding like beautiful wind chimes to Viktor’s ears. He was not sure who to be more jealous of: Yuuri for having so much attention from his beloved pet, or Makkachin for being able to get cuddles and kisses out of Yuuri.

With a dramatic huff, Viktor unwound his arms, walking over to the pair to kneel next to them.

“I think there’s a possibility that he likes you,” Viktor joked.

A smile perked up on Yuuri’s lips. “Hmm, only a little bit.”

Viktor chuckled, grateful that Yuuri was feeling cheerful after the events of the previous night. Now that he was closer, he could see that the bruises, covering his right cheek and jaw, were already beginning to darken from their glaring red to blackened purple. The swelling of his lower lip had not lessened, but the split appeared to be beginning to heal. Viktor did not even want to think about the artwork those teenager’s boots had left on Yuuri’s stomach. It made him sick just thinking about it.

Yuuri stirred beside him and moved to raise himself off the ground, using the door frame to balance. Pain distorted his features, a hiss escaping his mouth as he screwed his eyes shut. Viktor shot up and grabbed his forearms to help him stand upright, feeling the other mans’ hands quiver with the struggle. Barking followed them as Makkachin was roused by the sudden commotion.

“Thanks,” Yuuri mumbled shakily once they were both standing, leaning heavily on the frame behind him.

“You’re welcome,” Viktor replied softly, staying in place while he waited for Yuuri to catch his breath.

He turned his head only momentarily. “Hush, Makka,” he placated before turning his attention back to the man before him.

Yuuri exhaled harshly, dragging a hand through his still damp hair before he peered up at Viktor. It was the first time they had both stood beside each other almost fully upright and, to Viktor’s surprise, the other man was only a few inches shorter. His head would fit perfectly in the crook his neck-

“It’s easier to see you now that you’re closer.”

Startled out of his quickly spiralling musing, Viktor’s brows furrowed in confusion at the sudden statement until he remembered blue glasses. Those glasses he had seen Yuuri rescue from the floor and place on his face, broken. Those warped rims and cracked lenses he had placed on the bed side cabinet when Yuuri had passed out from exhaustion and pain in his bed.

“Is your sight that bad?” he enquired.

Yuuri sighed. “Yeah, I can barely see without them. It’s all terribly blurry,” he laughed humourlessly, looking away from Viktor. “I suppose I’ll have to get a new pair.”

“I’ll buy you a new pair!” Viktor blurted out before he even had time to think.

He just wanted to take away that sorrowful expression: it did not belong on his beautiful face.

Copper eyes shot back to azure, incredulous. “T-there’s no need. It wasn’t your fault and you’ve helped me enough as it is,” he spoke quickly, waving his hands in front of him, seemingly looking for a way out of the situation.

Viktor stepped back a bit, giving him the space he needed.

“Then at least let me offer my room for a few nights, just until it’s easier for you to move around.” His eyes bore into Yuuri’s, pleading.

He did not want their time to end.

“You’ve been great and I’m really grateful.” Yuuri cast his gaze toward the hallway. “It’s feeling better already, um…” He trailed off, raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck.

Viktor deflated, unable to keep the disappointment at bay. He wanted to make sure Yuuri was going to be okay; he was clearly still in pain and was having difficulty in doing basic movements. But, he also did not want to push his boundaries. It was his pushiness that always got him into trouble with his previous relationships. For once, he just _wanted_ one to go right.

“You could drop me off at my flat?” Yuuri asked tentatively, seemingly feeling Viktor’s frustration.

He looked up searching Yuuri’s face for any sign of uneasiness. There was no way he wanted the man to offer just because he felt compelled to.

Yuuri, though, mistook the silence for hesitation.

“I-if that’s okay?” And there the gaze flicked away again.

“Yes,” Viktor forced out, louder than he intended and winced internally when he saw shock register on Yuuri’s face. “That’s absolutely fine, you said that you didn’t live far!” His voice far more chipper now that he felt useful once more.

“Great.” Yuuri gingerly reached up to scratch the underside of his jaw. “I’ll just go and gather up my things,” he stepped backward out of the doorway as he spoke, gesturing to Viktor’s bedroom, before turning away.

“Take your time,” Viktor called after him.

 

* * *

 

They drove in relative silence, save for the occasional direction that brought them closer to their separation.

He wanted nothing more than to keep watch over the man beside him. He wanted to wrap him tight and never let him go. There was just _something_ about him. Something that made even the silence, which Viktor usually hated, easy. The silence that was usually deafening, especially when in the company of others, was no longer accompanied with the crippling suffocation of loneliness.

Now that he had had the taste of comfortable company, he did not want to let it slip from his grasp.

As he drove, Viktor tried his best to avoid the bumps and potholes in the road. He slowed down significantly whenever he neared one, much to the annoyance of the drivers behind him but he only cared for Yuuri’s comfort. He hated when his wheels found some that went by undetected, drawing a barely contained wince or hiss from Yuuri beside him as the entire vehicle jolted. It took all he had not to keep looking at Yuuri to make sure he was okay rather than at the road he was supposed to be paying his attention to.

“I guess I won’t be working for a few days due to this,” Yuuri gritted out, bracing a hand on the dashboard in front of him, after Viktor had to emergency stop due to a car suddenly pulling out in front of him.

Viktor had to inhale and hold a large breath to keep from shouting obscenities out of the window to that driver. Could they not see that he had an injured man in the car?!

He chanced a glance over at Yuuri, before focusing back on the road. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Yuuri just sighed. “It happens more often than you think in our line of work.”

Viktor gripped the steering wheel hard, knuckles whitening. The sight of Yuuri slumped against a brick wall, breathing heavily, with a gang surrounding him and pummelling blow after gruelling blow into him flitted through his minds’ eye. The mere idea of the strong possibility that Yuuri had been though that before sent him reeling. Oh, what _he_ would _do_ to those people if he ever saw them again. They would indeed be _sorry_.

“Uh, my block is just here.” Yuuri gestured ahead of them where a high-rise block of flats dominated the next corner.

With the indicators turned on, Viktor pulled into a drop off bay right outside the entrance of the building so that Yuuri did not have far to walk. He turned in his seat to face Yuuri, as the other man gathered up his bag with slow, purposeful movements. Scrambling to find something to say other than just a simple goodbye, Viktor opened his mouth to shut it again when Yuuri opened the car door.

It could not just end right there. _Could it?_

Will they go back to Yuuri being the dancer and Viktor being simply the addict? Only able to sample the forbidden fruit for an hour per few nights each week?

He did not know if he could go back to that now that Viktor had a taste of what it was like to _be_ _with_ Yuuri.

The object of his affection gingerly stepped out of the seat, hand holding the edge of the door as he turned.

Viktor took his hands off the steering wheel, leaning forward after him before he knew what his body was doing.

Yuuri paused, ducking back into the car slightly with one hand still on the door and the other holding onto the roof of the car.

“Seeing as my addict won’t be getting his daily dose for a little while, do you want to meet up?” His voice was pure silk.

Viktor’s breathing hitched in surprise; his heart stuttered in its cage, each beat wild and erratic.

 _There_ was that sexiness, all full of promise and half-shuttered eyelids, catching him unawares whenever Viktor thought this man had given him everything that he thought he deserved.

Lips quirked up and Viktor cocked his head to the side. “I wouldn’t want anything more, my dancer,” he purred.

Yuuri blushed violently, dashing his copper gaze away quickly.

And there was the adorable again.

“Tha-that café, the Mitte, see you at ten tomorrow,” he stumbled out before shutting the door and walking away as swiftly as his aching body would allow him.

Viktor watched his retreating form, a smile firmly on his lips, as the man slipped into the entrance of the building after swiping his keycard.

 _The Mitte_.

The name rang a bell. Hold on… That is the café near his workplace – the one where he had bumped into Yuuri for the first time outside of the bar. Fantastic!

He was going to see Yuuri again. It was actually going to happen. _He was going on a date_ _with Yuuri._

Viktor was not able to contain his excited grin as he pulled away from the curb and blended into the traffic of Saint Petersburg. He could not _wait_ for tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My hiatus is finally over! University is finished: the dissertation handed in and exams completed!  
> I hope you've enjoyed the chapter, be sure to let me know what you guys think :D
> 
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